


The Fog

by Aspietwink



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Childhood Trauma, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide, and dont be a weirdo for real, look i had a bit of a breakdown and this helped me calmed down, projecting my issues onto Akechi as per usual, take the trigger warnings seriously, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28197840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aspietwink/pseuds/Aspietwink
Summary: The young man had been trying to walk home in a thick, dense fog. He was on the right path, but he should’ve been home by then.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	The Fog

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Abusive family members , implied child abuse , implied sexual assault , referenced suicide + death , suicide baiting , intrusive thoughts
> 
> NOTE: This is not in reference to the fog from Persona 4. It is based on real life fog that is common at this time of year where I live.
> 
> This is not a fanfiction to try and romantise these issues. You aren’t meant to find enjoyment in what happens. This is actually based on my own intrusive thoughts, trauma attacks and reaction to triggers. I guess actually expressing these images and thoughts has actually made it a bit easier to cope.
> 
> If you somehow find some sort of sick enjoyment from what happens here, go to a therapist. It’s not healthy.

A night that should’ve been the same as the rest, covered in the thick fog of Winter. The yellow lampposts gave the grain a yellow hue. One could see just over half a metre in front of them, before the dense night swallowed the surroundings whole. The only thing the young man could hear on his way home, aside from his own footsteps, was the traffic in the distance.

He kept his steel briefcase close to him and kept his headphones off, just in case anyone would try to sneak up on him. Though it seemed like there was no one else awake, not even muffled shouting from the houses he passed by. The young man tried his best to ignore these unusual circumstances, distracting his mind by fiddling with his fingers on his free hand.

He had never seen fog like this in his life. It was normal to see some sort of fog during the deep Winter months, but nothing as bad as this. The only things missing were a massive snow storm or a camera crew making a horror film. His boots continued to stomp on the ground in a consistant, fast rate - as he hoped that he’d see the entrance to his apartment soon enough.

He had started to make himself look at his own breath in the air, when a new sound started. It was soft, and seemed to be coming from only a bit ahead of him. The crooked gasps of air mixed with the disgusting sniffing of snot revealed what the sound was - crying. A small child bawling their eyes out, at that.

 _Did some dumbass let their kids go outside in this?_ The detective prince of Shibuya was annoyed at both the idea of someone being so stupid at to let their child play in what is obviously a parent’s worst nightmare, and that he’d probably have to deal with this child himself. He sighed heavily through his nose and continued onward. To his displeasure, the crying only got louder.

It wasn’t long until he could see the child in his line of sight, and out of all the possibilities, the child was sitting directly in front of him. They were only seperated by a metre or so. This was one of the things that made Goro suspicious, because he couldn’t see anything but the fog around or between him and the child. A ghost? No, that’s just impossible. Maybe the fog reacted differently when it around humans and not just the ground.

As he started to get closer to the child after his brief pause, Goro became more and more apprehensive. The child never looked up once, he just continued to look to the side his body was facing with his head in his hands. Surely he would be curious once he heard footsteps stop, right?

The child’s apparence was...almost nostalgic. He looked like the main character from a “rags to riches” children’s story, with a white shirt with suspenders and his brown dress shorts. He had leather shoes with velcro straps and pulled his white socks all the way up to his knees. Who was he? Why was no one coming to save their child, who had barely been alive for more than half a decade?

Just before any connections or ideas could truely form in Goro’s mind, that’s when it started. It was intelligable and mumbled at first, seeming as if it was coming from one area. But then it revealed it’s true form.

“Stop crying, you’re the one who caused this.”

A man’s voice said, frustration in his words. It came from in front of where the child was sitting. The prince didn’t have anytime to react before another voice called, this time from behind them.

“I can’t believe the last thing that whore did was leave us with her mistake.”

A woman’s voice, somehow shooting daggers without having any eyes. Goro snapped his head around, but like before - no one was there. All he could see past him and the child was the fog in every single direction.

“If we send him to a home, do you think he’d grow up to be just like..”

The voice couldn’t even finish it’s sentence, a tone of disgust in every word - but clearly not with the idea of what would happen.

“You know what they say, children often become just like their parents.”

Almost instinctively, Goro stood infront with his back to the child. He didn’t know what it would do, since the voices seemed to swirl around. _Who the fuck could think about a child in this way?_ Who the hell were these familiar voices or this child, and why on earth were they being so heartless? Sure, he wasn’t much better with the blood on his hands - but even he wouldn’t hurt a child directly.

“Mummy...”

That word made him froze. He couldn’t move his legs, as if he was a statue from the waist down. That word seemed to echo again and again, he felt his lungs start to fall out of sync and relying on his active mind to keep moving. That word, why that word?

“I want my mummy...”

**“Give it a break, you annoying piece of shit!”**

Then, a loud noise and a shriek - followed by even louder crying. No matter how hard he tried, the detective prince couldn’t figure out what the noise was - did he even want to? He knew that whatever it was, it hit its target and caused memories that would haunt even the strongest of people.

“Call up that social worker in the morning. I can’t take anymore of this, or else I’ll be the one to kill myself next.”

An unbearable combination of anger and fear ran through the prince’s veins as if those words were an iv drip. He knew who the words were coming from. He knew who the child was, how could he not?

This was the last day he saw anyone on his mother’s side of the family, when he was rejected by those who were meant to protect him. Protect him after seeing something as horrific as the police outside his home when coming back from the bathhouse and his mother, drained of colour - apart from the redness of her neck - laid out on a stretcher.

The boiling rage tightened the grip on his briefcase and made him start to tear right through his lip. He didn’t care about how this was even happening at that point, he wanted to get back. This need for revenge caused him to not even notice how the crying behind him faded, and a new group of voices started from behind him.

“Have you seen how famous he is now?”

His breathing was fast, and filled with the fire building in his soul.

“How many people do you think he had to do to get there?”

“Not sure, he’s chosen better than his mother for sure..”

He moved the briefcase so that his fingers were over the permutation lock. The voices seemed to get closer to him, looming over him like giants.

“Oh would you look who it is, the bastard child himself?”

“Tell us Goro, is it men or women?”

He started ticking the numbers in their positions.

“Do they pay you good, or is that how you get all your interviews?”

His breath burned his throat.

“Hell, maybe you’ll father will be looking for you - just like how he went to find your mother.”

The briefcase opened and he quickly gripped his gun in his hand. Dropping the case to the ground, he checked to make sure the silencer was on correctly. _They don’t know anything about what I’ve been through._

“Speaking of your mother...”

“Oh yes, speaking of your mother...”

It was as if they were speaking directing into his ears with their hands wrapped around his head.

**“Why don’t you join her in hell already?”**

The desheveled prince spun around in a second, unable to stop his finger from pulling the trigger in every direction. Even when he was out of ammo, he kept turning and pulling the trigger. _Fuck off, fuck off and shut the fuck up-_

“Aw look, he’s crying again.”

 _Why won’t they fucking stop already?_ He wasn’t crying, was he? Someone like him doesn’t cry over something so...strange.

“Keep crying, you won’t get anything. You’re nothing more than a waste of space.”

He hadn’t even realised how many times he had spun around, until he found himself falling to the ground back first. His breath was completely knocked out of his, causing him to gasp while still shakily holding his gun upwards. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, not helping his state.

“You’re a disgrace to humanity.”

“You’re a disgusting freak.”

Were the voices even human anymore? He couldn’t tell if they were actually distorting or if he had gotten a concussion from his fall. The words went from clear to muddled, quiet to loud, deep to high pitched. Agony.

“You deserved everything.”

“You should have never been born.”

He didn’t even bother to pull the trigger anymore. He felt the anger drain from his veins and be replaced with a chilling self hatred that froze his bones. He let his arms fall limply to his sides, holding the gun in only one of his hands.

What had he even been doing before this? That’s right, he was just trying to get home after an interview. It was such a simple task he did everyday. Yet, somehow, he got so off track and was now lying on the ground with his gun in his hand and tears in his eyes.

“I couldn’t even do that right...”

He couldn’t control where his thoughts were going anymore, nor could he control what he said. Any type of masking he had worked so hard to perfect was gone. _I can’t do anything right._

On one hand, the voices had finally stopped forcing themselves into his brain. As now, he could feel every word and intention they had. The reminders of his inferiority bouncing inbetween his bones, ligaments and muscles like a lightning bolt. The reality of life filling his stomach like a tape worm, spilling out of his mouth to entangle his throat until only a sliver of air could get through.

His blood was cold and useless, he couldn’t move and was forced to let go of his gun. His want, no - his need to disappear pushed its way out of his brain and tried to get out from behind his eyes and from his mouth. It wanted him to utter the 4 letter sentence.

“I want to...”

His mind and his soul were at war, one wanted to hear the words come from his mouth - the other denied he had ever felt that way. He felt his eyelids grow heavier with every passing second. He was exhausted. He didn’t have any strength to keep them open.

“I want...I...”

He didn’t truely know if he ever say the words, as his eyes closed and everything seemed to switch off around him.

Instantly, he shot awake in his bed. He looked down at his hands before looking around, He was definitely in his bed, and was covered from head to toe in freezing cold sweat. Was it just a dream? Oh course it was, it was the type of nightmare typical to the world of unconscious thought.

Either way, he knew he couldn’t just turn over and fall back asleep. He stepped onto the ice cold wooden planks, almost slipping at first. He took a few steps over to his en suite, turning on the cold water tap. He lifted the water to his face and drenched it - at least it wasn’t boiling anymore.

Goro’s eyes glanced over at the small window next to the sink. The blinds were closed, as per usual. He felt a nagging in the back of his mind. _Check it._

He didn’t have a choice, as his hand reached up and moved the blind so he could peak outside.

The night was the same as the rest, covered in the thick fog of Winter.


End file.
